With such cold rigidity some are able to carefully build these walls
And I try to imitate the craft,
But alas, my heart is far too soft.

When darkness falls, gently, across these open plains of
Windswept grass
It takes nothing but a single breath to
Lay my spirit bare,
Fingers of the starlit night reaching into the wild
Tangles of my hair.

And how easily I let these barriers
Fall all the way
Down

All the weight I’ve carried upon my shoulders dropped,
Just like that,
Just like a soft and silken gown
Strewn across the cooling evening ground.

And how I also crumble and fold,
How these painted walls
They do not hold

Because I am not afraid of love
And I beg the floodwaters to roll like raging
Oceans whipped by cyclonic storms
And I bend into the breaking of the stones
And my heart is screaming
Let them fall!

No, I do not try to cage this eternal seeking of my soul, so

Let them fall

Let them fall

I will always turn towards the sunlit warmth of love,
Arms reaching forever out
Though it may be better to arm these walls,

I will always let them fall.


I live breathless and free in the breaking.

~
Mother of many waters
the manner with which she ascends
is sympathetically informed
we are a running spring
from her womb
flowing along the magical line
of peaks and summits
to cascading fiery birthright

and the rain fell
and the snow settled
and the ice theologized
to remind us
the outside world still worships
her eruptive embers
~